


The Pathetic Silence

by YourNarrator



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Countries Using Human Names, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7908343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourNarrator/pseuds/YourNarrator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tino refuses to acknowledge the precariousness of his relationship with Berwald and instead buries his head in the clouds of fantasy. Unfortunately, everyone else does notice this and contributes to the inevitable breakdown of Tino's dream castle in the sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Climbing Small Hills

Tino sat up in his bed and searched the room thoroughly with his eyes. He always did this. His eyes looked at the curtains which failed to let the sunlight through, cascading golden light throughout his room. Then his eyes darted to his shelves. Every cup, trinket and knife was in the correct place. His guns were still mounted in the same positions as they were when Tino checked last night, ordered in a system of ascending weight. Now that he created the illusion he was checking the room in general, he looked at Berwald. One time Tino looked straight at Berwald, not knowing he was awake and who thus inquired about it, so Tino got into the habit of pretending to be looking around in general. The smaller man noted that this time the other man was completely lost in dream land. Content and relaxed at the other being unconscious, Tino smiled over at him and noticed how peaceful he looked. Tino bit his lip and wished Berwald would always look that peaceful, that harmless, and that innocent. He whispered delicately as to not wake up the Swede and ruin this perfect little moment in time.

“Sve, I know you can’t hear me but I love you. I just can’t say it when you’re awake.”

“Why?” He imagined Berwald’s gruff voice replying in a blunt manner.

"I’m so anxious not to screw up. I’m so worried you will leave me.”

Berwald’s eyes slowly fought off sleep, opening and shutting clumsily like a letterbox in the wind. Tino halted his speech and continued to look around, pretending he had only just woke up. His books were still in alphabetical order by title, which drove Berwald crazy as he looked for authors, not titles. His clothes were still in rainbow order in the wardrobe, just as was Berwald’s.

His head snapped to face Berwald when he felt the warmth of hand on his arm.

“Climb over me.”

Tino almost choked on his own saliva. What kind of morning greeting was that? It sounded more like some grotesque retort Mathias would say.

Berwald shot Tino a look. Tino pulled his tongue out whilst his brain tried to decipher the code. Soon he realised that Berwald thought Tino was waiting to get out of bed but could not as he was in the way, thus telling Tino to climb over him. This realisation was confounded when Berwald then snuggled back into bed to continue dreaming.

The smaller decided that confessing to Berwald now was dangerous as Berwald was slipped into a world in between that of reality and that of sleep, thus could be easily awoken, so Tino attempted to climb over Berwald’s legs in order to get downstairs and start breakfast. He shuffled over to Berwald’s legs and hoisted one leg over timidly and then the other in the same fashion. He looked up and was sure he saw a flash of blue on that otherwise sleeping face.

Had Berwald been watching him?


	2. Descending Castles

Tino’s little life was so blissful until the story I am about to tell you. Tino lived in a little land where his happiness could never be rained upon but only expanded. He had his humble castle in the clouds which held his worldly possessions. He owned an adorable little dragon to woof at unsuspecting invaders of his castle. He had his prince who had the length potential to reach all those shelves Tino could never get to by himself.  
But as his prince walked out of the castle and jumped from the clouds, Tino found his castle itself be pushed off the clouds and into the rocky seas of reality. However Tino was never the one to surrender easily.

 

As aforementioned, one little problem Tino did face was Berwald. The two of them together never fit in any clear box when it came to their relationship. It was a simple lack of communication. Tino was afraid to admit his feelings to Berwald in case Berwald then left. This created an unhealthy paradox as this meant that Tino could never ask Berwald how he felt, as a similar outcome could happen. As Tino kept this paradox alive, he and Berwald could be seen as both being single and taken at the same time. So the Finnish man chose to inwardly assume that they were living the perfect relationship whilst ignoring the reality of his problem.

 

Tino spent the most of his days planning festivals and preparing for Christmas. He agreed to do the housework and walk the dog whilst Berwald pottered about in the workshop making furniture and glassworks. In return, Berwald fixed the IKEA furniture that Tino clumsily pieced together and help with the housework Tino could not be bothered to finish himself.  
On the day of this chapter, however, Tino was forced out of the house by Berwald. Berwald had grabbed the smaller man once he had finished lunch and lead him to the door.  
“Berwald! What are you doing?”  
“Go outside and play.” He stated, pushing Tino outside. Tino’s heart sank when he heard Berwald’s key rustle and the click of the door lock. Tino knocked on the door, realising he had nothing to do outside.  
“Hey, Berwald! Can I have my laptop so I can talk to Eduard?”  
He heard a soft grunt from behind the door and, after the padding of feet, Berwald came back with Tino’s laptop. Tino nestled himself down on the grass a few paces away from his house and video called Eduard to check up on festival plans.  
“So, Eduard,” Tino babbled excitedly as the familiar look of his friend popped up on his screen, “I came up with more ideas for our festival plans.”  
“Go on?”  
“We could have a cat-appreciation festival! We could have a wide variety of meats and fishes and drink milk and wear cat ear and…”  
“…No. Dogs are cuter.”  
“But we did a festival for dogs last year. Why can’t cats have a festival this year?”  
“We won’t make a profit.”  
Tino puffed so his fringe lifted up slightly.  
“Why are you outside?”  
“Berwald kicked me out.”  
Eduard’s eyes shone with so much sympathy that Tino became quite unnerved.  
“You can come and live with me if you need to, Tino. You know that, right?”  
“Yes, Eduard, I know. I think he’s trying to make something and he doesn’t want me in his way.”  
Eduard smiled simply and pushed up his glasses. Tino smiled back at him and fixed his collar. A moment of pathetic silence passed. Tino could not think of anything to fill that daunting silence. That silence that had always threatened his castle in the clouds.  
“So… How’s those… Other two guys?”  
Nailed it.  
“They’re… I don’t know. We don’t live together anymore so I don’t really talk to them anymore.”  
Tino puffed his cheeks out. He became grateful that he knew he had a nice family and a few friends to talk to. Poor Eduard did not seem to have anyone in particular.  
“Do you want to come over for tea sometime? If Berwald will let us inside, that is.”  
“No way! Have you seen your husband? He looks like a psycho, I ain’t messing with that.”  
“You spend too much time with Kiku.”  
“Don’t we all?”  
The two then ended their video chat out of embarrassment. Tino could normally ramble for Europe but on this day he felt his stomach lurch about restlessly. He decided to continue video calling regardless and closed his eyes. At random he pointed at a name on the screen and hit the call button.  
“Hey, Matthias!”  
“Hey, ugly!”  
“I see I’m online again. Does this mean you’ll be going the gym today?”  
Matthias pulled a face that even I cannot describe with accurate meaning.  
“You read that? I thought you were offline.”  
“I was. But sometimes I go back and read the group messages.”  
“Lukas was right. You’re crazy.”  
The protagonist of this story stuck out his tongue and waggled it. Then he giggled at his own audacity.  
“Well, with acknowledgement to your smooth reference to my awesome retort before, I’m heading off to the gym! And so should you at some point, fatty!”  
“You should get your hair cut, Sonic!”  
“Your banter has so passed its cartwheel insurance!”  
“Your speech is so common that Berwald knows more ways to grunt than you do words!”  
“Aww, don’t get Berwald involved. This banter match is between me and you, porky!”  
“Get lost, Snow Queen!”  
“Okay, Fin-lad that was a good one. But seriously, I’m leaving.”  
Matthias had pressed the end button before Tino even had the chance to breathe. Tino laughed at their odd little conversation and decided that it was only right to check up on Emil and Lukas. Since they were not online, Tino called Natalya instead.  
Natalya appeared on Tino’s screen, her golden hair so neatly brushed and her lips so delicately pursed. Tino always forgot just how wonderful she looked until he remembered to video call her. She smiled like the Mona Lisa and greeted Tino.  
“So, how’s the knife collection going?” Tino asked brightly. A less known quirk about Tino was that he and Natalya got on quite well. They both liked to talk about their weapon collection and their odd ‘lovers’, as they were affectionately known.  
“My lover took the whole lot away. He said he might mail them to you. You’ll store them safe for me, right?”  
“Of course! I will put them in a separate box and make sure to polish them.”  
The two smiled at each other and nodded.  
“How is your lover?” The less psychotic of the two continued.  
“He’s still a bit shy. I think he’s worried I’ll damage myself with those knives. How about your lover?”  
“He’s locked me out of the house.”  
“Mine’s done the same thing!” Natalya gasped and then gestured around her. Tino laughed politely. Then the first thoughts of uncertainty bombarded his fictional castle. What if Berwald was playing the same tactics as Ivan? Was Berwald ever going to let him back inside? Was he scared to leave in case Tino attacked him?  
“Tino, are you okay? You look upset.”  
“If Berwald doesn’t let me back inside, can I come and live with you?” Tino asked desperately before he could even think twice. Natalya nodded but frowned.  
“Eduard kind of had his hopes on you living with him, though.”  
“Oh.”  
The two smiled at each other awkwardly until Ivan barged into Natalya’s room.  
“Little sister, did you hide my water pipes?”  
“Da, big brother. Why should you have pipes if I can’t have knives?” Natalya said ‘affectionately’, “I’ll talk to you soon Tino!”  
“Okay, bye!”  
Tino hung up just in time as he noticed that Berwald had opened the door.

 

Tino felt somewhat invaded when he walked about the house with Berwald’s large hands over his eyes. He grabbed at the once familiar world around him but found nothing to use as a clue. Berwald carefully stepped forward which forced Tino to do so or be trampled on. After what seemed like a long, solar eclipse, Tino felt a surface in front of him. Smooth, cold, large- it was the dining table. Berwald slowly allowed light to enter in between his fingers until Tino could see what Berwald did to the dining room. Well first off he did not sort through those piles of papers in the corner despite Tino telling him every day. Berwald had swarmed the dining table in candles, so much so that Tino refused to move in case one knocked over and created a domino effect. Laid on the table was a delicate bowl full of kissel with some home-made sweets balanced on the edge of the bowl. Tino gasped, looking up at Ber. He thought that the other man never listened to him when he whined about his cravings for sweets.  
“It was either this or pizza.” Berwald remarked before sitting down opposite Tino, who in turn took a seat and stared at his bowl.  
“Thank you very much!” Tino grinned from ear to ear, tapping at the sweet dish with his spoon. He delicately put a little quantity on his spoon and tasted it. Berwald had used bilberries, just as Tino wanted. It was just the right thickness with the right sweetness too.  
“Good?”  
“Yes, it’s lovely!”  
Tino took an alcoholic sweet and sucked on it. He found he felt less embarrassed and less pressured to make conversation if his mouth was busy.  
“Pretty.”  
“Hmm? Candles? Yeah.” Tino mumbled with his mouth full as he tried to cram all the sweeties into his face at once.  
“I meant your face.” Berwald said with such severity that Tino began to take all the sweets out of his mouth in embarrassment. He internally was grateful for the darkness of the room, hoping the shadows would hide his flushed cheeks.  
_Ho hum._  
“So… Y-Yeah… What’s this for? Is it an anniversary or something?” Tino said aloud. Instantly regretting he existed, Tino panicked.  
_Oh wow._  
 _I’ve done it now._  
 _I’ve screwed up!_  
“Tino?”  
Here we go!  
“What are ‘we’?”  
Tino could have laughed if he was not stuck in that current situation. That was a brilliant question to divert.  
“We are landmasses personified as a bunch of beautiful people. I represent the nation of Finland and you represent Sweden.”  
“You know what I meant.” Berwald stated and looked away dejectedly. Tino gasped and immediately rammed more kissel into his little mouth to divert attention from his completely crimson face. After he had successful consumed his mouth-load of dessert, Tino risked conversation.  
“So, I was planning a cat…” He was cut off in his tracks by an annoyed Swede glaring at him. Normally the other man would stare at him and look as blank as a clean canvas onto which Tino could paint the ideal picture of Berwald’s emotions upon. However this time Berwald’s face perfectly assured Tino his inner emotion of bitterness. Tino never truly saw him look so bitter.  
“Did you walk the dog?”  
That question came out more desperate than Tino wanted it to. Yet again Berwald glared at him and refused to respond. After a few minutes of this eroding silence, Berwald put his bowl in the sink and snatched the leash from the hallway, not declaring anything to Tino. Not bothering to look up from his dessert, Tino continued to chip away at his dessert until he heard the familiar click of the door and the distant barking of his precious baby.  
_I’ve screwed up._  
“We’re married, Berwald. We’ve not said our vows and I’ve not even asked you to be my partner. We’re married because I said so.”  
Tino looked at the empty chair and imagined the Berwald that he preferred was sat there. The one that would sit and wait until Tino was finished rambling and finished eating. The version of Berwald that would only go bed if Tino was ready. The nice Berwald with the stern but somewhat blank expression on his face. The imaginary Berwald grunted and nodded at Tino’s explanation.  
The smaller man lived in a daze. He did the dishes but could not remember doing them. He could feel how minty his mouth was but could not remember brushing his teeth. He could not remember combing his fringe or changing clothes. Did not even remember climbing into bed. All he remembered was how dull the white ceiling was as he stared at it, trying to aimlessly distract himself from those pesky italics.  
_I’ve screwed up._  
 _Where is he?_  
 _Has he moved back home and took the baby with him?_  
 _Would Emil and Lukas let him move back?_  
Tino stared at the book case. His arms felt like they had been ran over by a bus; his legs felt like the other Nordics had decided to sit on them all at the same time (which had happened before). He stretched out his hand just in case he had the psychic power of being able to grab a book from afar. Naturally that did not work, or else this fanfic would have went so differently. Underneath his bedroom, Tino could hear the two return home again. He listened intently to Berwald getting ready, even being able to hear the soft hum of Berwald’s headphones playing ABBA. Just as he could hear the soft tapping of Berwald’s slippers approach the door, Tino lost his consciousness and was succumbed by the demon of sleep.

 

Tino dreamt that he had gained consciousness in a world of no substance. The ground, the surroundings, and the sky- they were incomprehensible and incomparable. The best I can do, dear reader, is to describe an oil canvas that was spoilt in a moment of anger so that the purple mixed and swirled with the black. Where did the purple start and where did the black end? Where did the ground start and when did the sky start? Did this world of dream have a sky, a sweet opening to look up to?  
“Where am I?”  
Immediately Tino felt stupid. Who was going to ask that, the narrator? The sandman? Stupid Tino.  
“You are in my domain now, sweet child.”  
Tino jumped but never felt his feet land. It was like he was floating in this horrible oil canvas. He floated towards the sound of the voice. Who was it? What was that accent? Why did that voice make Tino’s very essence ache?  
“Yes, yes, float here.”  
“Who are you?” Tino called out, floating in no specific direction. With a sudden gargle, a man appeared. He made the canvas turn darker so that the purple never existed. The black shadows began to take hold of Tino’s boots.  
“I’m the very personification of silence.” The man laughed. Tino strained his eyes to make him out. Grey hair… Grey eyes… Grey skin… Could it just be Steve?  
“That’s such a pathetic thing to say,” Tino growled, kicking one of the shadows off of his boot. The man pinched our little one’s chin, grinning at him with ghoul-like teeth.  
“I am Silence. I slip my way into your conversation, into your life and make myself at home. I am the cruel one who makes you babble so desperately to fill me. I am Silence and you hate me.”  
Tino lowered his eyes to glare at the grey freak in front of him. The freak snarled at him and kicked another shadow off the Finnish man’s boots. Silence conjured up a small picture of a castle with clouds.  
“What’s that?”  
“Well, Tino, it’s the metaphor for your happy little dreams. Your tiny castle with your tiny dragon and your not-so-tiny prince.”  
“Oh! I always call my house my little castle! This one time I and Berwald successfully dressed Hanatamago up as a dragon and we even made our own moat out of these cute little blue flowers.”  
“Tino, for the sake of noise, shut up. I know, okay? I’m Silence, I know everything for I manage to get everywhere. Now do you see your little castle?”  
Tino nodded and concentrated on the picture. Silence smiled and dropped the picture into the abyss of shadows. The shadows now gained the energy to crawl up the poor man’s legs.  
“Follow your precious castle, Tino. Let the shadows consume you. Let them take you back to reality.”  
The shadows reached Tino’s neck. A sharp shiver rattled through his body as his vision went completely into the abyss.  
“Matthias!”  
“Berwald, what are you doing in my dream?” Tino asked the black void.  
“Berwald!”  
“Matthias? You too?”  
“Tino! Please!”  
“Lukas? Great. Emil, do you have anything to contribute before I wake up?”  
“Top bants.”  
“Thanks, Emil.”

 

Tino felt his consciousness return. He looked over at Berwald, sleepily. Berwald was staring right back at him.  
“You shivered. I thought you were cold.”  
Tino noticed that Berwald had sacrificed his half of the duvet to Tino and had wrapped his arms around him. Tino blushed a little but found no words in his brain. Where were those words? Those words he needed to fill the sodding silence… Where had they gone to?  
“The silence, it hurts.”  
Tino was pretty sure his mouth was still dreaming. Berwald answered with a calmness that was terrible to his character.  
“It’s going to get worse.”  
Berwald withdrew his arms and turned over. The coldness sneaked into Tino’s burrito of blankets as silence came back to harm him. Tino, in the harsh dark, thought he could see the gap between the two of them widen. Maybe it did.  
Tino, surrendering for now, retreated to his most adored: the castle in the sky.


	3. Bolting Problems

Ever since that little question and the sarcastic answer that followed, Tino and Berwald found themselves edging further and further away. Tino did not secretly declare love to him in the tender hours of the morning, now those golden blasts in the morning were spent quietly watching Berwald. No confessions, no dialogue, just watching the other, hoping a clue on how to escape this new reality would arise. Gatherings of any sort were the very source of awkward eye contact; isolated tasks were met with an appreciative sigh for offering perfect escapes from the other person. Tino did try, dear reader, he tried to create stimulating conversation to indulge Berwald in. He tried trivial matters such as what Berwald desired for his evening meal to more significant matters like Emil’s wellbeing, neither provoked a preferred response from Tino’s stubborn other half. Tino’s speech, gestures, touches, existence were all met with the same response from Berwald- that bitter, all-to-real glare, that was introduced during that troublesome candle-lit meal, and a lack of acknowledgement, even in the form of a grunt.

Tasks the two would often complete together in some dream of marital bliss were now completed separately. Berwald began to wake up early and make his own meals so that he could sliver pass Tino. Tino walked their precious dog by himself, reminiscing about the simple joy of when Berwald would join them and scare people out of Tino’s way with his stern expression.

One time when Tino and Hanatamago had reached their favourite park, Tino freed her from her leash and sat back, wondering when he would be free from this oppressive leash of silence that controlled his household. He stared at the rolling green pastures that ceased to end, remembering how the only sound used to be him talking to Berwald. Now the only sound was a happy Hanatamago chasing the wind.

_Hanatamago, why can’t you understand what is happening? Why can’t you tell me the answers?_

Toying with the idea of asking for help, Tino cringed with embarrassment. How could he tell Natalya about lover problems? How could he tell Eduard about Berwald without Eduard instantly telling Tino to pack his bags and move in? No. Tino concluded to cure his own issues with his own techniques. He vowed to sort this out, somehow, someway…

Tino returned with a content but exhausted Hanatamago. She instantly took a nap in her bed whilst he approached a hasty Berwald. The other man grabbed his usual long blue coat and his wallet.

“Where are you going?”

“I thought I’d visit Emil and Lukas.”

Tino never thought he would be so grateful to hear that blunt voice again. He wanted to hear that voice again.

“I’ll be back before you wake up.” Berwald added, ruffling Tino’s hair. A warm, reassuring emotion gripped Tino’s entity, ascending him back to his castle in the sky. His Berwald was still his. His Berwald still cared and that was all that mattered. Tino felt free from the gross daze he had been living in. He felt like he was no longer going through the motions. Simple sensations like the minty aftertaste of tooth paste were enough to make him blissful. He lay in bed that night grinning like an idiot. He told that stupid Mr Silence that everything had sorted itself out. When the little Finnish man woke up to see his favourite man lay next to him in the morning, everything for him was confirmed. Berwald cared enough to come back in time which was all that mattered to Tino.

However this marital bliss did not last long enough. Tino became slightly disturbed when these visit became more and more frequent. Berwald often came back after Tino had finished making lunch, leaving Tino to worry over the other’s wellbeing. Sometimes Berwald came back enlightened and therefore treated Tino to a flower or a little gift. Sometimes Berwald came back hungover and so crawled straight to bed, which made Tino quite bitter.

Once Berwald left on the Tuesday, telling Tino not to wait up for him. Tino’s heart immediately ached with jealousy and resentment. What was the point of having a roommate if they never stayed? What was so great about Emil’s and Lukas’ house anyway? Tino wrapped himself in a cocoon of blankets. He let the dog roam in the back garden and then went back to his warm cocoon. He lifted the blanket army over his head to block out the sounds of computers whirring and the light of day, leaving him to his dark little world underneath the covers. A dark little place where he could pretend his Berwald still loved him. Tino lay there for hours, just dreaming and tracing the outlines of his fingers in the dark.

Bleep!

That was his laptop. Tino pinched his nose and wished it would disappear.

Bleep!

Tino unwrapped himself from his little daydream and scooted over to the edge of his bed to grab the laptop. Eduard’s name immediately popped up. He pressed the answer button automatically before he could change his mind.

“Hey so Tino, cat festival!”

“What about it?”

“Let’s plan one!” Eduard said excitedly, bopping his fists up and down.

“Okay.”

“Tino, you don’t sound too great. Are you okay?”

“I and Berwald had a row of some sorts. Now he keeps leaving me, living like a lodger.” Tino stated aloud blankly. He hated how he felt once the words escaped him. Part of him felt relieved that he could now finally get the attention and sympathy he longed for; part of him hated admitting to himself and the world that his dreamy life was nothing more than a dream. Tino stared and waited for Eduard’s response. Eduard answered almost as blankly as Tino had talked before.

“I’m sorry to hear that. You can always stay with me.”

“Thanks Eduard.”

“I’ll see what information I can get from the blogs to help you.”

Tino smiled and nodded. Although he was sceptical on what the internet could do to help, he appreciated Eduard’s effort.

“You’re a good friend.”

“No problem.”

.

Tino lived in a daze of bitterness as Berwald still had not returned from his visit on that Tuesday. Tino took Hanatamago out but did the bare minimum. He skipped meals and simply grazed on whatever he found in the fridge. He sat in his bed, wondering how the situation had evolved so dramatically from the two desperate but excited men that ran away from Mathias’ house together. He tried to create his under-blanket world where he could dream about happier times but somehow the dreams were interrupted rudely by reality. So Tino, consumed from the piercing uncertainty and anxiety of what was going on, kept the door bolted permanently. He had no real reason for wanting to keep the door bolted; no real plan as to what he was planning; he just did it as it helped him feel… Feel more in control somehow… He could not control when Berwald would come back but could definitely control how Berwald was going to get inside.

On the Saturday evening, Hanatamago was asleep in her bed. Tino had been grazing on chocolate and was lying in bed, stroking his plump stomach, hating himself for surrendering to delicious temptation. He then heard Berwald knocking on the door… He wondered on whether or not to be a rational man and unlock the door… Or to ignore him. Tino threw the covers over his head to try and filter out the sound of the banging. Berwald had the keys to the backdoor so he could go around that way, Tino concluded in a detached manner. However this resolve of his quickly evaporated and was substituted in the place of sobs as he could hear Berwald’s footsteps rhythmically banging on the stairs as he ran. The Finnish man curled himself into a ball as he could only feel the shame and fear of what Berwald would say as he made his way into the bedroom. He wished that the bundle of blankets and duvets would swallow him up so he would not have to see the anger on Berwald’s face. Gasping loudly when a sudden beam of light and cold hit him, Tino sobbed louder and screwed up his eyes. He felt the mattress tilt slightly as Berwald sat next to him.

“It’s okay, it’s just me.”

Berwald stroked Tino’s back with his heavy but gentle hands and made hushing noises. Tino waited for a few minutes to savour the attention but then turned over as his sobbing gradually decreased in intensity. He gasped when his eyes met with Berwald’s bruised and bloody face.

“Ber?” Tino asked. He truly had no idea how to finish that utterance without sounding ridiculously stupid. Instead he just pointed to Berwald’s swollen black eye.

“Some guy attacked me on the way home.” Berwald shrugged, wiping the stray drops of blood that spilled from the corner of his mouth, “Tino we need to have a word.”

“Go and brush your teeth first.”

…

Retrieving plasters and wipes from the kitchen, Tino entered his bedroom to find Berwald already in bed, in an old pair of shorts and a grubby t-shirt.

“Why didn’t you wash your face whilst you were in the bathroom?” The Finn asked as he sat down on the bed next to him.

“Why did you bring wipes?”

Silence sank around them. The sudden idea that Berwald wanted to be nursed by Tino played with the latter’s thoughts. Tino could not understand why Berwald would want to be cleaned up by another person, unless Berwald just wanted some attention. Was Berwald feeling lonely too? In a house with another man and a dog, did Berwald feel isolated? Tino looked at Berwald with a new perspective; Berwald gazed back, looking as hollow as ever.

Tino positioned himself so he was slightly elevated but still turned to face his odd Swedish acquaintance. It was peculiar being so closed to the other’s face. Tino tried to ignore Berwald’s features in fear of blushing but he could not help but notice Berwald’s eyelashes. He was not expecting his patient’s eyelashes to be that long for some odd reason.

“Why did you bolt the door?”

The shorter wiped Berwald’s cut lip to make him inhale sharply, buying Tino more time to think. After a few minutes of internally debating about the best excuse, Tino allowed his mouth to spill without the censorship of his brain. He was exhausted of lying; exasperated of trying to conceal his true intentions. If he wanted Berwald to feel less isolated then Tino had to be more open to him, at least that is what Tino concluded. The larger man began to turn away but faced Tino once the first word left his mouth.

“I don’t like it when you leave me. I get so lonely and I worry about you and then when you don’t come home I feel betrayed.”

It all came out in such a rush that, when Tino studied his love’s expression, Berwald blinked a few times. Just when Tino was about to open his mouth again, Berwald interrupted.

“Okay. I won’t leave.”

The two of them smiled, even if Berwald’s smile was barely distinguishable from his usual frown, and then Tino continued to dab softly at Berwald’s cuts and bruises. A sense of hope washed through Tino’s existence. His castle was still intact; his modest but blissful life with his fluffy dog and tall companion continued.

“Should I tell the police?” Tino asked whilst searching through the plaster box for a small plaster. Berwald shook his head defiantly but patted Tino’s shoulder softly. Tino always adored how Berwald patted him as if he was a fragile porcelain doll.

“Next time I’ll be more careful.”

.

The visits to Emil’s and Lukas’ house became less frequent, much to Tino’s pleasure. When Berwald did go, he often came back earlier than he had promised to Tino. Our little Finnish friend was simply blissful. He laughed and rambled to Berwald, discussing the cat festival he was planning with Eduard and how Hanatamago was progressing with her training. Berwald nodded and made the odd appreciative grunt, which made the world bright and welcoming in Tino’s eyes. Morning confessions of love returned, comfortable silence at the dining table was part of general life. They drank hot chocolate together in the evenings, enjoying the other’s presence. They watched television and argued over who got the remote control (by argue I mean Berwald kept the remote control out of Tino’s reach until Tino had bribed him with food). Their days were quiet but content, if not slightly lacking in substance.

.

Before I continue to the next chapter of our tale, I would like to tell the reader of one quirky incident that happened. Tino was just about to climb into bed when Berwald, already tucked in, caught him off guard.

“Tino, jump.”

The Finn, not expecting the sudden command, jumped but landed clumsily on the side of his foot.

“Tino, take off your shirt.” Berwald commanded immediately after Tino’s feet touched the ground.

Tino unbuttoned his shirt quickly but became shy. He grabbed a pillow and covered himself up as soon as the last button was undone. His cheeks flared up as he stood in front of the bed. He loathed the idea of Berwald looking at his pudgy arms and his round, pale shoulders. He hated the idea that Berwald was going to judge him. Tino, despite being quite strong, did not have an athlete’s physique. A few minutes passed of the two staring at each other, until Berwald spoke up.

“If I bought you a dress, would you wear it?”

Tino hugged the pillow to his chest and stared at it. What was Berwald doing? Would Tino actually wear a dress?

“Hmmm, I think so. Maybe it depends on the dress,” Tino paused for thought, avoiding Berwald’s face, “I wouldn’t wear one of those hourglass dresses that Feliks likes. Oh! I’d totally wear those frilly dresses Kiku makes! Yeah…”

The smaller nation looked up to the ceiling and dreamed about wearing a white frilly dress with little pale blue bows on it. Maybe Berwald could wear a matching pale blue suit?

“OK.”

Tino looked back down at the pillow in his arms.

“Can I put my shirt back on now?”

Berwald shook his head at Tino. Tino felt something inside him die… Probably his dignity. Instead of arguing about it, Tino crawled into bed with his arms still around the pillow. He lay down and hugged his pillow, refusing to turn around to look at his Swedish acquaintance. He heard Berwald sigh behind him. The Finn realised that his back was not covered and so whipped around to save himself from further embarrassment. Berwald sighed again and ruffled Tino’s hair softly.

“I was joking.”

Tino lowered his eyes at him and squeezed his pillow to release his anger. Tino shoved his shirt on and fastened the buttons up with record speed. But as he lay next to Berwald, the little Finn schemed. He decided that he was going to vanquish the juxtaposition between his awkward reality with Berwald and his dream castle in the sky. He decided he was going to make his daydreams and fantasies a reality. Firstly he was going to tell Berwald how he felt…

…Poor Tino.


	4. Suggestive Pastels

“I’ve decided to stop being so passive. I’m going to tell Berwald how I feel. If he doesn’t feel the same then… Well…”

“…You’ll have to get over it.” Matthias answered on the other end of the phone. Tino sighed and nodded.

“But I have this gut feeling that he does! Why would he stay with me otherwise?”

“Be careful, kid. The world is not as adorable as you think it is.”

Tino felt something stab into his stomach. Matthias was right. What was Tino to do if Berwald turned around and said he did not feel the same? Worse still, what if Berwald freaked out and never grunted to him ever again?

“Thanks for the warning Den!”

“Don’t, Fin. I wish the world was what you wanted.”

The line went dead. Tino stared at the phone emptily. The world went in slow motion as he heard heavy footsteps towards the room. He could feel Berwald’s presence loiter behind him. Exhaling a little too dramatically, he forced himself to smile and turned around to face him.

“Berwald, I have something to tell you.”

Berwald shrugged, staring at him intently. Tino gulped and played with his fingers. He stared at them as if they had the answers, as if they knew what Tino should say.

“So Berwald…”

The Finn looked up to see the Swede only a few inches away from him. The other’s eyes were so severe, his manner so strict, his face so… Intense. Tino felt the perspiration begin to gather, feel his heart slowly crawl up his throat and yet sink into his stomach at the same time. Was he the Doctor from Arthur’s favourite show? Oh wait, now he was getting distracted.

“…Ja?”

“I-I…”

Tino began to lose patience with himself. He had killed men quicker than this… Destroyed nations with more energy than this… Won wars with less anxiety than this. Why was saying how he felt so hard? Where was that hope and optimism he had beamed out to everyone else? Maybe Tino knew the answer: his sunny exterior was nothing but a mask he could hide under. Maybe that was why he adored Berwald. Berwald’s face was an accidental mask; not created out of years of deception and smiling like Tino had done. So Tino looked into those eyes that could never do any wrong, those eyes that never fit into a certain label of colour, and gave into the despair inside of himself.

“I like your new glasses.”

Berwald stroked his glasses with his right index finger, staring down at Tino. For a moment Tino saw a flicker of emotion in those bewitching eyes. An emotion akin to disappointment but also, if this is completely possible, pleased. Tino felt his mouth dry up, his eyes on the verge of leaking. He smiled up at his beloved friend and walked away quickly.

.

.

Tino felt a numbing daze wash over him as he interacted with the rest of the world. This numbness was mostly due to confusion as those around him changed dramatically. Eduard grew cold and quiet, his only choice of topic to discuss being the cat festival. Lukas kept weeping whenever Tino rung up, never on for too long, mumbling something about Emil being ill. Banter battles between himself and Mathias abruptly ceased. In a world full of people and nations, Tino had never felt so isolated. The only refuge from this sinking feeling was his perfect Berwald.

Eduard did, despite his current mood, sent him a list of suggestions for Tino to try out. Tino then rated the list and allocated certain situations in which he could act out these suggestions. Tino waited until Berwald had gone out to then roll a dice over which suggestion on the list he would choose. Unfortunately for Tino, one of the less conventional situations cropped up, so he enacted his least favourite suggestion.

.

Tino felt his heart leap in his chest as his eyes met with the sight of an exhausted Berwald, collapsing on to the bed with gratitude. Internally Tino knew this was the ideal time to enact plan “Large Hint” but he was still cautious. This plan relied on so many external factors; only one had to play against him and Tino’s strategy would fail, maybe even hinder his war for Berwald. A sudden heat of determination sprung up- he was doing this no matter what.

“You’ve been working so hard, would you like a massage?” Tino asked casually. Berwald looked up and raised an eyebrow quizzically.

“O-Oh! It’s okay if y-you don’t want-“

“What? I can’t hear you when you mumble.”

“Would you like a massage?” The Finn, out of desperation and anxiety, shouted far louder than he had aimed for and even accompanied the question with a pathetic gesture supposedly resembling a massage. Blankly Berwald nodded. Tino almost felt dizzy- he did not expect his plan to get this far. He ran to the bathroom, worried Berwald would change his mind, and sighed as he found himself picking up the tub of Vaseline- Berwald really needed to stop collecting Vaseline products.

Entering the room only to be met with the sight of a topless Berwald, Tino turned into a blushing and trembling mess. How longingly he wanted to change his current plan. It was obvious that this was an idiotic plan. It was not guaranteed that Berwald would assume Tino’s romantic feelings towards him just by giving a massage. Tino began to wonder if Eduard had thrown this suggestion in for a joke.

“Massage.” Berwald said with a tinge of excitement, lying down on the bed. Courage filled Tino up to the brim. Berwald wanted a massage. By Thor, Berwald was getting a massage.

Cautiously Tino positioned himself on the bed so he was hovering over the other man’s back, his legs on either side Berwald’s thighs. Immediately Tino wanted to flee with embarrassment but he stayed put. He noticed that Berwald had took his glasses off and was watching Tino from the corner of his eye as he turned his head. How unnerving.

“I’ve never done this before so I may not be very good. I’ll try though!” Tino chuckled nervously, poking Berwald’s back. Berwald grunted.

“Try your best, that’s all that matters.”

Encouraged, Tino rubbed Berwald’s back softly, forgetting the Vaseline. Berwald’s back seemed to go on forever; Tino felt embarrassed about how small and little his own back was in comparison. The Swede’s skin was quite rough and his muscles were so tense. Tino remembered the Vaseline and dipped the whole of his hand into the tub.

“Your skin is rough. You should look after yourself better.” Tino stated. A smile tugged softly at the corner of Berwald’s lips as he grunted again.

At first Tino was quite timid with his hands, poking here and there with the moisturiser. Gradually he became braver, rubbing the substance in lightly along the Swede’s spine. Berwald grunted and continued to watch Tino out of the corner of his left eye. Tino smirked once he remembered that he need not worry about Berwald watching him- Berwald was hopeless without his glasses on. Tino grew even more daring and kneaded Berwald’s body with the Vaseline, starting from the bottom of his spine all the way to his broad shoulder blades, untangling knots and tenses expertly. Berwald grunted more frequently and his breathing faltered. His back leaned into Tino’s hands. Tino grinned to himself, feeling more confident in his hands suddenly. He decided to massage from the Swedish man’s shoulders back down the bottom of his spine to make sure that the Finn did not miss any knots. Once satisfied, Tino scooted upwards so he could reach the back of Berwald’s arms. However Berwald turned over, pinning poor Tino onto the bed.

The world stopped in its motions as Tino’s eyes widened. The dust particles paused their drifting in the silvery light, the dog downstairs halted her barking. It was Berwald’s turn to hover over Tino, his chest only an inch away from Tino’s shirt. Those ambiguous eyes flickered, making Tino squirm a little and fidget nervously. Those eyes held the same look they had the other day when Tino hid himself behind a pillow, except the look was now amplified. Berwald’s hands were resting just above Tino’s shoulder, acting like bars for a cage.

“So! Wasn’t that fun? Was I good? I thought I did okay seeing it was my first time. Maybe I should do your feet next time? Oh! Did you want me to do your arms?” Tino rambled aimlessly, desperate for Berwald to stop staring at him. His vision leapt to the tub of moisturiser. The larger man snatched it from the edge of the bed and placed it on the pillow, just above Tino’s head.

“No. My Tino’s turn now.”

Threatening to rip out of his chest onto Berwald’s face, Tino’s heart pumped his blood too quickly for it not to show on Tino’s cheeks. Berwald’s fingers stroked the fabric of Tino’s shirt, searching for the buttons. Thinking ahead, Tino grabbed Berwald’s glasses and artfully slipped them on to Berwald’s face, pushing them up the other’s nose with his index finger. He blinked a few times now that he could see again. His face edged closer to Tino’s as his eyes fixed on something. Instead Tino’s eyes followed Berwald’s fingers which now moved away from his buttons and to the shorter’s lips.

“Your lips are dry.”

“Oh! Yes they are! How silly, I forgot to—“

Every sense of Tino’s being melted when he saw Berwald take out some lip balm from his back pocket. He wanted Ber to stop and get off him: he wanted Ber to never leave. Why could he not be strong and courageous like Mathias or Lukas? Why did he have to be so anxious all the time?

Tino’s heart flipped over when he saw the lip balm edge away from his face tauntingly and instead landed on Berwald’s lips. Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh. His lips glinted slightly under the low light. His face was too close to the Finnish man. His eyes were too lidded for any good. Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh. Instantly the smaller man screwed up his eyes so tight that his head felt light. He inhaled sharply through his nose. This was it, he internally screamed, the moment; please may he not blow it.

Something wonderful happened, I guess. Tino got his moment; that cliché in every movie ever seen, every book ever read, every song ever listened to. They all make such sweeping statements, not unlike the aforementioned sentence. They all generalised. They all seemed so perfect. Lips on lips, warmth meeting skin, and nose pressed awkwardly together or expertly on the other’s cheek. Tino noted that Berwald’s nose was far too big to be squished against Tino’s. Nether the less, he got his moment in the warm bliss. If his mind was a colour it would have been the brilliant pastel pink that people dreamed that sunsets were made of. If his mind was a picture it would have been pastel blue stars that sparkled under a green picnic. How quaint, how blissful, how tragic.

“Su-san…”

And suddenly the heat evaporated to leave Tino with a sudden chill. Tino’s eyes flicked open to see no ambiguous blue stare back at him. He saw no grumpy frown or messy blond hair. Berwald had vanished. Tino’s mind turned to a suffocating navy. Teasingly Silence sat in the corner of his eye, grinning in the sheer agony of it all.

How fun.


	5. Red Pentagons

If we said Tino’s existence was a canvas; it was grey. If we said Tino was a colour; he was gray. He was every shade of monochrome personified. He stared around him with eyes that barely saw light. He spent every day in a weird haze. The days dragged: the days flew by in a blur.

He watched the door in some kind of expectation. He just knew it had to open again. He just knew it had to. But he knew that it could be centuries again until he saw his soft giant walk in.

How on Earth did he screw up a kiss? A kiss! One of the most basic procedures of human life and yet he messed it up… Just like he had messed up his dinner. Pouring his dinner into a bin, he pondered it further. Were his lips too dry?

Oh gosh.

What if Berwald felt no spark, no bliss, no pastel sky? What if Berwald felt no cliché, no dizziness, nothing? What if…

What if they were doomed? A ship to sink, an ornament to shatter, a peaceful mountain waiting to erupt into a volcano?

What if…

Tino found himself neglecting life. He knew that his usual reply of “Everything is great, how about you?” was not going to cover him this time as his sobs endeavoured to escape. In consequence he dodged every person he saw, whether it was a civilian or a normal country, and only ever noticed Hana.

“What is going to happen?” He asked his precious dog, sitting her on his lap and petting her. “Are we over? Did we ever ‘begin’? What are ‘we’? Why is everything that is so hypothetical… Well, why does it hurt so much?”

The dog looked at him blankly, her ears twitching as she tilted her head.

Poor little Tino did not know that worse was yet to come. However, as Tino looked at Hana’s dark eyes, he knew something sinister was to happen…

 

Later his dreams confirmed this theory.

“Listen to me, Tino,” Lukas said, in a dreamy field, sat on a bench. Tino’s head whipped around, searching for his dream Berwald. Dream Berwald was different from real Berwald. Dream Berwald openly loved him. Dream Berwald was obvious with his emotions. Dream Berwald could never hurt him.

“Tino, you need to find Hanatamago a place to stay.”

“Lukas, don’t be silly. She’s happy in my house.”

Suddenly a familiar grey figure sat down next to Tino, so casually that Tino was offended. Silence, with his snarl and grey features, smiled down at him.

“It looks like I conquered your castle, hm?”

The Norwegian pulled Tino’s gaze towards him and spoke in a grave manner.

“Your house will not be safe soon. You must give Hana to a kennel or Eduard. Please, just make sure she is safe.”

Tino sighed to himself. Lukas always had a way of sneaking into his dreams to pass on messages. But was this Lukas’ real magic or just Tino’s brain? To be safe, Tino decided to ring Matthias to pick up Hana. Of course the Dane was as ever ecstatic to hear about getting a temporary pet to spoil. Something in Tino nagged him inside.

_I should have asked Ludwig… But that would mean returning his calls…_

 

Tino left the door unlocked for Matthias and lined everything he would need neatly at the door. He had kissed and hugged his precious doggy in advance and made his way upstairs. He always felt guilty when he cried in front of Hana for his baby always acted as if she had done something wrong. Silent tears trickled down his round cheeks as he nestled himself into his blanket kingdom. He smelt Berwald’s side of the bed to imagine him beside him again. He traced the outline of the room as his head poked out a little, memorising every little detail from Berwald’s clothes to their book collection. He looked to the window, which casted pure white light into his room, and memorised the patterns on the curtains. He made shapes in the lines and knew there was a demon lurking somewhere. Somewhere in those patterns on the curtains…

Tino felt something touch him. It grabbed him backwards slightly so his back was up against it. He screamed.

“Hush Tino, it’s just ya old buddy!”

Tino huffed as he wiggled for room in Matthias’ grasp. Matthias lightened his hold on him, now just resorting to stroking his back.

“I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

“Good.”

A few moments of silence passed, spent with Matthias stroking Tino’s back. Tino felt words on the edge of his tongue. They were hopeless, meaningless, nothing.

“Why did I make him leave?” He asked the curtains on the wall, not moving his gaze from the shapes he had made in the lines.

“Maybe he just wants a little love? He’s a man, y’know?”

“Yes, I know what gender he is.” Tino replied, suddenly feeling a sickening sensation fill him. He was growing uncomfortable with the idea of telling Matthias his problems… for he didn’t want to hear Matthias’ answers. Regardless Matthias continued.

The Dane’s warm breath tingled against Tino’s ear as he whispered: “Well maybe he just wants to be held?”

Strong, large arms wrapped around the smaller man’s waist, enveloping him in the affection and warmth he was so starved from. He adored getting this attention… But it wasn’t Berwald- It was Matthias.

“Hmm, maybe.” Tino’s reply came out more as a sigh than a statement. He felt Matthias’ body against his back. It felt reassuring but misleading. Something was happening that Tino knew it was outside of his domain of control.

“Poor little Tino. So small, so soft.” Matthias purred in a slightly condescending manner, “Who would leave such a beautiful boy?”

“Oh Matthias! How can I screw up at something as simple as a kiss?” Tino felt his mouth exclaim without any planning from his brain. Tears ran down his face as he felt his breathing become shallow and quick. Oh gosh, why did he have to cry in front of someone else?

Due to them both being on their side, Matthias could only wipe away the tears from one of his cheeks. Tino still refused to turn around to look at him, concentrating on the lines of the curtains.

“There, there, buddy. I’m sure it wasn’t your kisses. Have a little think of something else you could have done, hmm?”

Tino wept harder, not wanting to think about how he could have hurt Berwald.

“I’m so cruel to Berwald,” He hiccupped in an uneven pitch, “I’m so awful!”

The other man wiped away his tears and hushed him.

“No, no Tino. Don’t. Come on now, everything will be fine. There now.” The Dane murmured softly as he brushed the Finn’s soft, fine hair. A swift kiss landed onto Tino’s temple. It felt good: it felt wrong. As Tino’s sobs began to die down, Matthias spoke up once more. He leaned closer to Tino’s ear.

“I’ve got a little problem that only you can help with, Tino.”

Horns and bells rang internally for Tino. Something about that statement was truly menacing.

“How about we make a deal, hmm? I give you all the affection that Berwald never gave you. And in return, you pretend that you love me.”

For a split second, Tino actually considered it. Matthias was handsome and quite fun to be around with when he wasn’t fleeting away. If Tino combed down the Dane’s wild hair and maybe closed one eye, he could look like Berwald too. His fingers stroked Matthias’ pointed nose, relishing the sharp point.

But his stomach churned as if he had drunk rotten milk. Something was going on here, something different to what Matthias what letting on. His blood boiled inside of him and he felt his skin crawl.

“Something’s not right here, Matthias. But thank you for the offer.”

He could imagine Matthias’ smirk behind him as Matthias replied: “What are you going to do about ‘Su-san’ then?”

 The lines on the curtains can make pentagons, Tino realised in his madness. Lukas was right, something was going on in this house. For the next move seemed so out of character to Tino but yet so sinfully perfect. That point on Matthias’ noise was so tempting, he saw the chance and took it. He stroked it once more until he brought his fist forward and smashed it against the Dane’s face, feeling that beautiful point crumble against the back of his fist. A satisfying crunch echoed in the room.

“I want you to leave.” Tino said calmly, as if he was addressing the curtains instead of a great Viking nation. He heard Matthias scuffle away to the bathroom to attend to his nose. A soft smile sat on his lips whilst his eyes glazed over with true dejection. He did not care about what had just happened, nor about what Matthias was up to. He just lay there, staring at the curtains, wondering what it meant to be dead.

His vision of the curtain and the pure white light became distorted as Matthias stood in front of Tino. He bent down so he was at level with the shorter man’s face and grinned at him, blood dripping from his nose to his lips, contrasting with his teeth. Satisfied with himself, the bloodied man stole a kiss from Tino’s lips. The Fin would be lying if he said he did not like the kiss but he would also be lying if he said he appreciated Matthias’ blood dripping on to his soft cheeks.

“There’s nothing wrong with your kisses, silly.” Matthias grinned down at him, blood dripping and eyes scheming. He licked his lips, smirking at his latest conquest. The feeling of disgust swamped Tino’s soul, now repulsed by Matthias and himself.

“Fudge off, Matt!”

Something flipped inside the taller man as he now gazed back down at Tino with a frown.

“Come on now, Tino. Berwald isn’t here to baby you anymore. Why don’t you swear?” He wiped some blood of his nose and grinned again, if not with a slight sadness in his eyes. “Berwald was right. You are a pathetic excuse of a man.”

The Finnish man lurched out of the bed to hit him but the Dane dodged swiftly and pushed him back down on to the bed.

“I love you Tino.”

The smaller man screamed at this statement, feeling his insanity slipping by him. He burst into a mess of sobs and choking on hot air. Matthias sat there and grinned down at him before leaving without another word.

Anyone else would have asked why the spikey-haired man had kissed him. Any other person would have questioned the minutes of madness that had just passed. Instead the fragile man lay there, wondering if he should have rung Ludwig after all.


End file.
